Long Time No See
by SunshineGirl99
Summary: Her plan for the evening hadn't involved waiting for her partner, but then again, it hadn't involved knives, guns, and an old friend either.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys!_

 _I'm not proud of the fact that I haven't updated in a while, but I assure you I have a reason, which is I'm in high school now! So yes, I apologize, but I can promise you I have not forgotten about my stories._

 _Long Time No See, is a story I've written to reacquaint myself with the writing world. It's finished and the next chapter will be posted sometime this week. I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

The blackness of night fell in a graceful arc of blues and blacks to cover the sky. Stars twinkled overhead, their gentle glow fighting for space among the harsh lights of the city. For the hundredth time, she checked her phone for a text or email. Anything to reassure herself of his existence. She released a sigh of uneasiness when the only message she'd received was the newest deal on fashionable clothing.

"Refill, miss?" A young girl stared up at her, a pitcher in hand. Glancing at her half filled glass Nancy simply nodded, unwilling to hear her own worry laden tone. With a polite smile the waitress obliged, before moving to the next table of people whom she seemed to recognize and receive a warm welcome from. Nancy watched her go, suddenly envying the girl's carefree attitude. It was an unwelcome emotion, for she'd always been perfectly happy with her life before.

A friend's near death experience could change things like that though, she reflected.

She balled up her napkin in unexpected frustration. He'd been stabbed to near death, and when he'd woken up in a hospital from a drug induced coma, all he'd had to say for himself was: 'what have I done now?'

The startling awareness of a human presence interrupted her troubled thoughts. An older woman, seemingly in her mid 70's had stopped beside her. She placed a weathered hand on Nancy's arm, while knowledgeable eyes stared imploringly over wire rimmed glasses. "There's a time dear, when you just have to admit that they're not coming."

Nancy stared slightly taken aback as the woman left, leaving a slightly flustered man behind to murmur a hasty apology before following suit. After blinking a couple times, Nancy let loose a small laugh at the woman's misconception.

It was a fair mistake though, she realized as she looked around the reasonably busy restaurant. Most of the customers seemed to be comprised of couples. She shook her head. The object of her previous thoughts, Douglas Weston was hardly her boyfriend. As her partner in the FBI, Doug was a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

The unanticipated interruption did little to alleviate her anxiety, however. She _had_ been waiting a long time. _Where is he?_ He was a free spirit, but also an FBI agent. Promptness was one of the unspoken rules the bureau had for them, which they in turn held for each other.

She sipped on her water allowing it to slide down her throat in an icy trail. Making a sudden and rather selfish decision she reached for her phone. Sliding her fingers across the screen, she typed in numbers she remembered by heart.

Holding the phone to her ear, Nancy waited desperately for his deep soothing voice to answer. To reassure her. Heck, he could call her an overprotective mother hen for all she cared. At least he was alive...breathing.

Seconds ticked by. The rings grew loud in her ear, each one making her heart sink even further. At last she hung up, defeat causing her eyes to sting. She rubbed them, feeling the dampness that had gathered at their corners.

Self disgust grated at the edges of her mind. Since when had she been such a pitiful mess of emotions? _Since he nearly died,_ her mind unhelpfully supplied. Nancy winced openly, hating the fact that it was right.

The agonizingly long night she'd waited for him to wakeup, she'd realized one thing. She couldn't live without him. They'd been partners for less than a year, but yet she still couldn't picture a different person going over case files late at night with.

She smiled despite herself.

In another impulsive decision she stood up, called the waitress over to pay her bill, and left a healthy tip to make up for her own less than kind attitude throughout the evening.

Slipping on her coat Nancy left the restaurant, her only plan to head back to her hotel and wait for Doug there.

It must've been the loud traffic noises that muffled the noise. Or maybe it was her own thoughts she later reflected. Either way, she didn't hear his footsteps until his warm breath brushed the back of her neck.

A hand found its way to her mouth, covering it fully. She struggled in vain, realizing early on that surprise had out bested her. She was tugged off the streets and into the suffocating darkness of an alleyway. Fear bubbled up in her chest, its icy tendrils threatening to overthrow the forced calm that her work in the FBI had left her. The cool metal of a knife pressed dangerously against the front of her neck.

A single set of footsteps pounded behind her and Nancy felt the blade press even closer. She was whipped around so fast it made her head spin slightly. Light from a streetlamp flooded her vision, momentarily blinding her. Her eyes adjusted quickly and the tall figure of a man filled her view. His features were hidden in shadow, but the one thing that she easily recognized made her fear grow.

The glint of a gun.

Her mouth went dry in alarm. She blinked in a fleeting bout of panic as the other man cocked his gun. "Let her go, Trent. It's not worth it." He stepped forward slightly. Nancy frowned when the rich baritone brought back distant memories. In the split second she contemplated where she'd heard the voice before, he took another step forward, this time out of the shadows.

Nancy's breath left her in an instant. Standing before her was the one person she hadn't seen in over three years. She stared into his dark eyes in disbelief _. Frank Hardy?_


	2. Chapter 2

_It's quite short, I know. But, this is where it felt best to end it. The next chapter should be out soon. Please don't forget to review!_

* * *

Warmth spread across her face in such a rush Nancy was sure that she had to have set some sort of record. She silently thanked her lucky stars that it was dark. Frank seemed unaffected and she found herself wondering if he even recognized her.

He took two steps forward, his gun pointed in a deadly aim at her captor. Nancy gasped as the knife pressed further into her neck. A single drop of blood slipped down onto her shirt. She heard Frank swear slightly under his breath.

"Please don't shoot me!" Nancy's face scrunched slightly in confusion. The blatant fear in the man's tone was unnerving.

Frank too, seemed startled. He shifted uncomfortably, searching for his next words. "I won't," He said slowly. "If you put the knife down and let her go." He took a tentative step forward.

Nancy felt the arms holding her still, stiffen. A strong sense of dread circled her heart, squeezing until it took away her breath. "And what makes you think I would trust anything you say? Traitor!" The blade pressed until it cut, leaving rivulets of crimson to slide down her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut as cry of pain escaped her dry lips

* * *

Fear clawed its way up Frank Hardy's spine. Sweat dripped onto his now uncomfortably wet collar. His chest heaved ever so slightly from an impromptu run as he willed his hands to stay steady. He spotted the blood that dripped onto Nancy's blouse and gave an almost inaudible hiss of anger. He longed for an easy way out of his situation, but as it stood there wasn't one.

Trent Hardin was a wanted man. The son of an NYPD officer, and a murderer. A victim of mental illness, he was unpredictable. The fact that Nancy was now in his clutches, in truth, terrified Frank.

"Trent, please, let her go. Your father wouldn't want you to take another life." Negotiation was his only hope, and he had a feeling Trent knew that. Nancy's gasp of pain made his blood boil.

"How dare you use my father's name against me!" Trent spat. "After you killed him!" Frank swallowed back the tightness in his throat. Mentally filing the sentence away for later, made a split second decision.

"I'm sorry." He lowered his gun, inch by inch. Trent's suspicious gaze bored into him with a fear invoking intensity. "I know he meant a lot to you, but killing people isn't going to bring him back."

"Don had to pay. And so do you!" Nancy's pain filled gaze locked with Frank's, renewing the latter's determination.

"Then take me instead of her." Frank said smoothly, ignoring the slightly weak glare that Nancy sent his way. His gun was now at his side, useless in a fast paced situation. In a slow deliberate motion he placed it in front of him. The soft chink of metal hitting stone could have been the sound of a drumbeat to his ears. "I'm unarmed. Come get me, and let her go."

Trent was silent leaving Frank to wait in agonizing suspense. He'd taken a huge risk with the potential to kill both Nancy and him. The seconds stretched into minutes of waiting. "No. You deserve to live with another death on your conscious."

With a strangled cry, Frank lunged for his gun as the knife fell.


	3. Chapter 3

_I do apologize for this chapter's lateness, but I hope the content itself makes up for it. I do want to thank everyone for the reviews, favorites, and follows, as they mean a lot to me._

 _Thanks again, and please feel free to review! ;)_

* * *

She'd sat silently through it all, watching as Frank put both his life and hers on the line...accepted the silent plea in his eyes. But now? She couldn't. As soon as the words left her captors' mouth Nancy twisted her head. Her arms were hugged in an impossibly tight hold and her legs were next to useless, but she silently vowed she wouldn't be the man's next victim.

It could've only taken a minute for it to happen.

Her lips slammed together in pain as the knife hit its mark. Stars exploded behind her eyelids in colorful fireworks of light. She felt herself start to fall and brought her arms painfully behind her in a blind search for the ground. With a soft thud her palms hit the rocky floor.

Letting herself drop the rest of the way Nancy didn't bother to get up. Tired curiosity at where Trent was brushed her mind, and she opened her eyes. The stars twinkled calmly overhead bringing a strange sense of calm that wasn't blocked when someone appeared at her side.

"Nancy?"

* * *

The rough stones of the alleyway scraped against his knees as he scrabbled for his gun. The soft flesh of his fingers hit the cool metal at the same time as he heard the unmistakable bang of another gun. The thud of two bodies scared him more than he'd have liked to admit. Within seconds he was on his feet searching for the unknown gunman. His own gun reassuringly stable in his hands, Frank advanced in the direction of the sound.

"It's me Frank."

The familiar voice made his knees feel weak in relief. "Joe?" He called. His brother lowered his gun as he stepped out of the shadows. The normally expressive blue eyes were void of all emotion. Frank internally winced. Shooting to injure was considered part of their job. It didn't make the act any less painful.

"I've got Hardin. Backup and ambulances are on the way." Frank nodded gratefully, his eyes already on Nancy's prone form. He was by her side in an instant grabbing her wrist and calling her name. Blood dripped in rivulets down the side of her neck causing fear despite the steady beat of her pulse under his fingers. Her eyes stared upwards toward the sky unblinking, and disturbingly empty. He called her name yet again, unable to stop the tremble that shook the words.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity she sucked in an audible breath and her gaze became more aware. "Frank?" His hand found hers and held it. She felt the gesture and wrapped her fingers around his. "Long time no see." She smiled lightly.

A chuckle escaped his lips. "I guess so." She lifted a hand to her neck, wincing as she made contact with the wound. Frank watched her silently knowing better than to stop her. She didn't seem worried, and instead closed her eyes. He immediately frowned, squeezing her hand. She didn't acknowledge him, and his heart skipped a beat. Nancy still didn't respond when he called her name. He brushed away her hair to get a better a look at the cut. It still bled, albeit sluggishly. He pressed a hand against it while silently praying that the only reason for her unexplained loss of consciousness was something as simple as exhaustion.

After 5 minutes sitting in this fashion the shrill scream of sirens was welcomed. An EMT gently pushed Frank away to take his place at Nancy's side. Frank moved obediently, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Nancy and looking for Joe. His brother was standing a few feet away talking with another EMT. Trent was being taken care of beside them.

The conversations became muted as Frank turned back towards Nancy. Her hair was splayed haphazardly across the pavement, and the white blouse she'd been wearing was stained by blood around the top. Questions swirled dizzily in his head as he looked down at her. Once again he found himself praying that her injuries were only minor.

* * *

Joe Hardy blew out a heavy sigh as he watched Trent being loaded into the back of an ambulance. According to the medical technicians his survival chance was slim. Joe swallowed against the unmistakable feeling of guilt. The stickiness of the blood on his hands sickened him. This wasn't the first time he'd shot someone, and it wouldn't be his last, but the fact remained that taking a life even by accident was something you never enjoyed and certainly never forgot.

The fact that he knew he'd been hasty was like salt in an open wound. _Never shoot if you could endanger the life of a hostage._ It was by pure luck that Nancy hadn't been shot too. Wearily he walked to stand by his brother. Frank was silent, which Joe took as him being lost in his own world.

"How is she?" He inquired gently. Frank started slightly before answering.

"I don't know." He said honestly. From his tone, Joe could tell it bothered him immensely. "She lost consciousness a few minutes before they got here." He rubbed a hand across his face. The blood staining his fingers didn't go unnoticed, but Joe decided not to comment. "Trent?"

Joe grimaced. "Critical." Frank nodded in understanding. He was quiet then, staring off in the distance leaving Joe to stand uncomfortably next to him. In an effort to not interrupt his brother's thoughts, Joe busied himself with watching the EMTs. Frank turned suddenly and the pain in his eyes made Joe take a step back in surprise.

"She was dressed up." He said abruptly. Joe blinked. _What?_ Frank closed his eyes. "Like she was on a date." _Oh._ His mouth hung open awkwardly while he searched for an appropriate response. A phone rang then, and Joe found himself eternally grateful for whomever had invented them. Frank patted his pockets before stooping low and pulling out a phone from Nancy's pocket.

Joe watched silently as he hesitated before sliding his finger across the screen and answering it. He talked for a few minutes, his face a mix of surprise and confusion. When he hung up Joe stared at him in unrestrained curiosity. "Well?" He prompted. Frank rubbed his hand across his face for the second time that night.

"Apparently, Nancy's been working for the FBI lately." Joe's mind reeled in shock. _FBI?_ "That was her partner Doug. He's heading for the hospital now." Frank didn't offer any more information as he placed her phone in his pocket.

The ambulances drove away then with their respective patients, though this time the sirens somehow seemed louder and the lights brighter as if to further the troubled air that hung over the scene. Joe shook his head before moving back in the direction they'd first come. "They'll need us at the police station." He called over his shoulder.

His brother followed a few seconds later. They made their way across the street and into their car. Frank drove, leaving Joe to stare out the window and mull over the fact that his friend worked for the FBI. Thus was the reason why he didn't realize right away that Frank wasn't headed for their station.

"Frank," he asked after a couple minutes, "You're going the wrong way." Frank didn't even spare him a glance. Joe started to worry. "Where are you going?"

"To the hospital." Frank said calmly. Joe understood why, but still looked at him oddly.

"We have to give our reports." Frank didn't even bat an eye.

"You can go give yours if you want to, but I'm staying." Joe stared at him in both amazement and admiration. His brother was like a walking rule book half the time, following the rules and forcing Joe to do the same. This act went against Frank's nature entirely. Even so, Joe found himself agreeing, figuring that after all the times Frank had covered for him, he could return the favor.

The drive to the hospital was short, and soon after their conversation Joe found himself in the car driving back towards the police station. He arrived 15 minutes later, and ignoring the concerned stares as he passed the breakroom, headed straight for the sinks in the bathroom. Water turned pink as he placed his hands under the faucet. He scrubbed until the water ran clear, and even then he wasn't entirely satisfied. Nevertheless he dried his hands and exited before walking further down the hall.

Feeling a strange sense of foreboding as he passed the office of Lieutenant I. Hardin, he hesitated. As if it had been planned, the woman stepped out of her office. Immediately, Joe noticed the look of grief on her already tired features. Compelled by an unknown force he made his presence known by the clearing of his throat. She straightened slightly as she looked at him.

"Joe." She greeted. From the look on her face he understood she already knew.

"I'm sorry." The words weren't enough to convey his true regret, but they stood none the less.

She studied him for a moment before nodding to herself. "I suppose you don't know yet. Trent died en route to the hospital." Joe's heart sank. Guilt made his stomach turn. She placed her hand on his shoulder before he could offer another lame apology. "Joe, please don't blame yourself. I knew this type of end was probable and I refuse to entertain the thought that my brother's death was your fault."

With a light squeeze of his shoulder and a weak but genuine smile she walked away. Joe stared at her retreating form, hating himself despite her words. Turning and walking with painfully slow steps in the opposite direction, he felt his hands burn in the places where Trent's blood had once dried.


End file.
